


Witch Hunt

by preblematic



Category: Original Work
Genre: Asexual Character, Cuddling & Snuggling, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Gay Male Character, Homophobia, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Magic, Sexual Humor, Shapeshifting, Soo, There's a lot of shit goin on okay, Vampires, a lot of these are for stuff i haven't written yet, gay things, jfc what do i tag this as, mentions of past non-con, uh so i figured i'd post this here, uhhhh
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-02-04
Updated: 2014-12-14
Packaged: 2018-01-11 04:36:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 16,817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1168774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/preblematic/pseuds/preblematic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Being a magical being who feeds on sexual energy is a lot less glamorous than it sounds.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Like Father like Daughter

The magic community really should have moved past homophobia by this point. Fairies—an entirely genderless species—reproduced by seducing a young woman and filling her with fairy dust until she  _exploded_  into literally thousands of new fairies, and no one cared. But if Micheal wanted to get laid he had to sneak out like some kind of criminal. It was degrading.

When he flopped back through his bedroom window at stupid o’clock in the morning, with hickeys in places he probably shouldn’t have them and a pleasant thrumming in his fingers, his father was waiting for him. Micheal’s eyes widened when he noticed the tall man sitting in his comically undersized desk chair. He knew he was in deep shit, because John didn’t even look concerned, just angry.

"Too much to suppose that you came in here to borrow some lizard bones?" the boy squeaked. (Micheal really did have an unhealthy amount of lizard bones. It was a totally plausible explanation.) His father’s scowl deepened.

John Ryder was the polar opposite of his son in almost every way, their only similarities being their light hair and penchants for being stubborn as an ass. Micheal was short and fragile looking. He had long, thin fingers and a soft, feminine face topped with a mop of unruly curls. John was somewhere around 6’3” and, appropriately, built like a bear. He was all harsh edges, a strong jaw and arms that could kill a man.

"Where the hell have you been? What were you doing?" John asked, arms crossed over his chest.

Micheal shrugged and started toeing off his shoes. There was no use in denying it. “Y’know, places, things, anonymous sex.” He waved a hand flippantly; John glared at him. “I went to a bar, okay?” Micheal huffed.

"You’re seventeen."

Micheal paused in shimmying his pants off. “Wow, nothing gets past you, does it?” Fake IDs were actually stupidly easy to make when you knew witchcraft. Micheal was considering opening a store. ” I got a little bit buzzed and I  _might_  have sucked, like, maybe three dicks in the bathroom. Something definitely went up my ass. I really couldn’t tell you what.”

"That is repulsive."

"Well duh, you’re my dad."

John sighed deeply. “Do I even have to explain how idiotic you are?” he asked, changing the subject.

Micheal threw his liberated pants somewhere indiscriminate and groaned. “I’m a fucking  _moron_  who’s a disgrace to the family name and not fit to lead the guild. I get it.” He plopped down onto his stomach on his bed and spoke into the pillow. “Why didn’t you just let Evelyn do it? She’s more interested than me anyway.”

Micheal knew the answer before he finished the question. This was an old argument, but Micheal kept hoping his father’s answer would change to “Because she was batshit crazy” instead of—

"She’s a woman."

"You’re an asshole," the boy muttered too low for his father to hear. "Can you lecture me in the morning?" he asked, a little louder,"I’m tired."

"Micheal! You can’t just go off on your own without telling me just to appease your crotch."

"Oh, that’s rich, really, considering it was your dick that got us in to this mess. You let yourself get whammied and now you have to deal with the lifetime commitment, sorry for the inconvenience."

John started to interject. “That’s not—” But Micheal wasn’t done.

"At least  _I_  have a good reason. Incubus, in case you forgot,” Micheal spat. “You don’t have to deal with the withdrawal. I caught myself flirting with  _Lydia_  yesterday, okay? She’s like twelve!”

"You’re useless," John said, standing from his seat. Micheal scowled into his pillow. He could set his father on fire. He really could. But it would only be satisfying until the man punched him in the face and thus was not worth it.

"Yeah, got that. Turn the light out when you go."

——

His phone woke him up the next day. He groped blindly at his night stand until he found it. “If I met you last night, I don’t remember your name, so do introduce yourself.”

"You’re late," May said," Good to know that you had fun last night though. I’d ask what his name was, but—"

Micheal sat straight up. “Crap, what time is it?” He glanced at the clock. It was nine A.M. “I’m only half an hour late. Kyle won’t kill me, right?”

"He hasn’t punched anything yet, so I’d say you’ve got about twenty minutes before the death threats start."

"That’s good."

There was a pause, and Micheal considered just ending the call there with a quick goodbye, but May spoke up again. “Been a while since you went out. Three weeks? A month?”

"I was testing my limits," Micheal said. He cradled the phone on his shoulder, rubbing sleep from his eyes with one hand and floundering to get his jeans on with the other.

"Why?"

"Research," Micheal said cryptically, then elaborated when May huffed. "There’s this chant I wanna learn, but it requires a build up of, uh, some certain—some stuff."

"Say no more!" May interjected quickly.

"Fine, fine. Don’t expect me in peak condition. I don’t remember what exactly happened to me last night, but everything aches." Especially his knees.

"Don’t expect to be in peak condition when you fuck dudes in bathrooms for free," May responds.

"Solid advice."

"Or, y’know, you could man up and fuck my brother already, that’d work too."

"Hey, you drag him out of the closet and I’m all about it. He still refuses to call me his boyfriend," Micheal muttered.

"Maybe you should walk around naked until he can’t resist your feminine charms," May suggested.

"My ass  _is_  choice,” Micheal agreed. “I’ll be there in, like, ten or twenty minutes.”

“‘Kay, see ya soon.”

After she had hung up, Micheal put his phone down and indulged in the ache in his body for a moment. He really didn’t want to leave his room, wanted to crawl back in bed and bask. But a promise was a promise, and if he skipped out on his boyfriend’s little sister’s magic lessons then he would just be a shitty person.

Micheal felt really good right then. The guys he had been with the night before had left him buzzing with energy. He stretched out his limbs and popped his back into place and reveled in how good it felt to be well fed again. He made a mental note to never go that long without it ever again.

There were three knocks on his door, knocking him out of his thoughts, and his head snapped up. “Come in,” he called, before the door swung open to reveal his friend Annie.

Annie was a very new summoner who was a year younger than Micheal and two inches taller. She had joined his father’s guild eight months beforehand at Micheal’s urging, a complete newcomer to magic. She was pretty, if Micheal had been into that sort of thing. She had an afro, dark eyes, and darker skin, and she always wore sundresses.

"Annie! Why’re you here?"

She stepped into the room and looked everywhere but at Micheal. “So…um…your dad kinda wants us to fuck?”

Had Micheal been eating or drinking anything he would have spit it out and choked on it at the same time. As it was he made a kind of choked screaming sound, and his eyes began to believe they were in an anime.

"He  _what_?” Micheal yelped.

She looked down at her shoes. “I  _tried_  telling him that you wouldn’t want to—that I don’t want to, but he won’t listen! And he the guild leader; what’m I supposed to say?”

"That son of a bitch," Micheal growled. He walked over to her, and she flinched when he rested his hands on her shoulders. "I’m sorry, Annie. I’ll go talk to him." Yell at him, more likely.

"You don’t gotta do that," Annie said. "I mean, don’t get me wrong, I still don’t want your dick at all, and I don’t think you actually know how to penetrate someone else, but I just sayin’ we don’t need’a  _address_  it.”

Micheal could see that she was working hard at being nonchalant about this, and he knew it had to be stressful for her. “Oh, I need to address it,” he said.

"Fuckin’ macho bullshit, okay," Annie said. Micheal raised an eyebrow at her. "What? I don’t like confrontation."

"You don’t have to confront," Micheal assured her. "Just stay here. I’ll go yell at him." Annie rolled her eyes but made shooing motions with her hands, so Micheal took that as permission.

He loped down the stairs and banged his father’s office door open. John was sitting behind his desk and barely glanced up when his son entered. “Just what the hell do you think you’re doing?” he asked as soon as he had been acknowledged.

"Paperwork," John said flatly," and you’re interrupting. So make this quick."

Micheal’s mouth flapped for a moment as he searched for words. “You told Annie to have sex with me! How-how could you possibly—” He mimed his head exploding.

John quirked an eyebrow. “Your point is?” he asked.

Micheal’s jaw dropped. “With what she went through? How could you possibly do that? What got into your incredibly dense skull that made you think that would be a good idea?” He crossed his arms over his chest and waited for an answer.

John sighed. “You are what you are, and you can’t just keep wandering off. So I asked Annie to do it.”

Micheal groaned. “You say that like you wanted her to walk the dog!” he yelled, “It doesn’t work like that!” Completely disregarding the fact that Annie had the wrong junk, she was his friend, and she definitely didn’t want to do the do with him either.

"Why not? You don’t seem to have much in the way of standards, so she seems pretty enough for your tastes."

"I’m gay!" Micheal shouted. "She’s gay! Mutual gayness!" He waved his hand between his chest and the vague direction of where Annie was.

"Well get over it! It’s the only—where are you going?"

Micheal gritted his teeth and gripped the doorknob too tight. He spoke without turning back toward his father, voice carefully forced calm,”I have a lesson with May, and I don’t want to be late. We’ll continue this discussion when I get back.”

"This is not a discussion. You will do what you’re told. If that girl is not to your liking I’ll find another. There are plenty of pretty girls in the guild."

Micheal’s fist was through the wall before he knew what had happened, leaving behind a scorched hole. The fire mage’s eyes widened when he realized that he was still flaming. He quickly extinguished his hand and pulled it out of the still smoldering wall.

He considered acknowledging what his father had said, but Micheal knew it would only lead to more arguing, and old argument they’d had  _a thousand times_. Instead, he left the room, closing (slamming) the door behind him.

He ran back up to his room to find Annie. She was sitting on his bed with her head in her hands. She looked up when Micheal got closer, and she looked kind of shaken up.

"Hey, it’s okay," he soothed, rubbing her shoulder. "Shhh, shhh, no one’s going to make you do anything. I told him off. It’s okay." She leaned heavily against him and took deep, shaky breaths.

Micheal spoke again. “Listen, hon, I’ve got a lesson to get to. Can you make it home by yourself, or do you want me to come with you?”

Annie took another deep breath and sat up straight. “I think ‘m okay now,” she said. “It’s just, I got into this guild—this whole magic thing, really—because you suggested it. So that I’d never not be able to fight something, and yet look where I am now.”

"Well my dad is basically the biggest fuckweasel on the planet; should’ve told you that upfront. But don’t worry, he can only survive without a soul for so long." He smiled at her and stood up. Holding out a hand for her he said, "Come now, milady; I shall see you out."

She offered him a watery smiled and, taking his hand, stood up. At the door she offered him one last smile and reassurance that she was okay. “Call me when you get home, okay?” She nodded. “I’ll stop by tomorrow, too.”

"You don’t need to do that," Annie insisted," I’m fine. I’m actually doing better, if you can believe it."

"Honey, there is nothing to be ashamed of about the way you reacted," Micheal assured her," You’re completely sure that you’re alright?"

"Yes, Micheal. I swear I’m okay. I’ve even got a date tomorrow night!"

"Why didn’t you tell me? Where’s she taking you? What’s her name? How old is she? ‘S she nice? Do I need to practice my heat torture, or does she seem like not a complete sack of shit?" Micheal’s eyebrows made exaggerated movements with his words.

"Shut up! Her name’s Kim, and that’s all I’m telling you. You’ll scare her off!"

"Probably."

"I need to get home now," Annie said," Mom’ll worry."

"You’re sure you’re okay?"

"Yes. I’m fine. Bye, Micheal."

"Bye!" He offered her a smile as he closed the door. 

——

Micheal was only two minutes later to Kyle and May’s than he said he would be, and that was a great achievement for him. He considered just walking in—picking a lock was child’s play, but he decided that it would probably be rude. Instead, he rang the doorbell 3,242,157,429 times in the ten seconds it took his boyfriend to open the door.

"Kyle!" the blond said happily when the door was opened. Micheal leaned up on his toe tips and wrapped his arms around the tall male’s neck, pulling him down far enough to kiss him. Kyle pulled away quickly, wrinkling his nose.

"Micheal! What did I say about PDA?" he whined.

"Not to do it because you’re a giant wimp who won’t own up to his sexuality," Micheal grumbled, releasing his hold on the older male’s neck and entering the apartment. He dropped his bag of supplies on the floor.

Kyle was twenty, about 6’3”—almost a foot taller than Micheal, and he was so far in the closet that he was handing things off high shelves to Aslan. He had shaggy black hair and bags under his eyes that never quite went away. He was a warlock specializing in potions. He also might have had a bit of an alcohol problem and a habit of throwing punches first and asking questions later.

"Why do you smell like booze?" he asked," That’s my shtick."

"I forgot I had lessons today, and I was hungryyy, because you never feed me," Micheal whined. That was a lie. It was a voluntary fast, but that didn’t mean that he wasn’t going to complain to Kyle at every opportunity.

He whined when Kyle swatted his hands away from his hips. ”You’re a horrible boyfriend,” he added, rubbing his face against the man’s chest. 

"Stop flirting, you two," May called as she emerged from her room. "He’s here for me, not you. You all can canoodle when he’s done teaching me how to burn things." Kyle jumped away from Micheal so fast you would have thought he had been shocked.

In contrast to her older brother, May had dark brown eyes and wavy blond hair that she kept just below her chin, and where Kyle’s face was full of angles, hers was rounded and cherubic. Her skin was pale, but no where near as pale as Micheal’s.

"We weren’t—" Kyle started to protest, but the two blonds had changed topics already.

"So what are you teaching me today, oh learned one? I’ve been practicing my long distance!" The fifteen year old demonstrated her progress by staring at the wall until she literally burned a hole in it. "Whoops."

Micheal laughed. “That’s actually very good for how long you’ve been studying, but maybe pick a better target next time, yeah? Like that horrible grey hoodie that your brother insists on keeping.” Kyle made a noise of protest at that, and Micheal patted his shoulder in assurance that he would not actually set any of his clothing on fire.

"I was thinking today we could practice accendembra," Micheal added, lighting up one of his hands in example. "I’ll warn you, though, you might end up with some nasty burns the first few times."

May looked at Micheal’s flaming hand with excitement and nodded. “It’s okay. It’s not like I haven’t dealt with burns before. Part of the learning experience.”

It was true. Training to be a fire elemental was the hardest of the four—and thus the most rare, because skin did not take kindly to being lit on fire. Despite this fact, most people regarded it as one of the “weaker” elements suitable only for women, and any male who decided to master it was an obvious target for ridicule. Odd how that worked.

Most of Micheal’s scarring had faded with time. The only  _really_  noticeable mark left was the patch on his left side, right under his ribs. But he liked to wear long sleeves to hide the less so but still apparent scars on his arms. Self teaching was not the way to go when being a fire mage, but you live and learn.

They spent the next two hours in May’s room, practicing. She wasn’t powerful enough to be able to generate flames herself yet, so Micheal had to carefully transfer them from his hand to hers. He did this very, very carefully, knowing that if May ended up damaged in any way because of him, Kyle would skin him alive, no questions asked.

By the end of their allotted time, May was able to keep a flame around her fingers without discomfort, and she had only burned about a fist sized patch of skin on her wrist. Which was pretty impressive considering her skill level. Micheal had also taught her how to make a burn salve, because that was just a good thing to know how to do.

"Okay, let me just bandage that up for you, and then we’re done," Micheal said, motioning to the burn on May’s arm. She was happily watching as her fingers flickered in flame. He smiled and dug through his bag until he found some salve and bandages—must haves when training a fire mage.

Kyle had made lunch, like the domestic housewife he really was, and Micheal was halfway through a grilled cheese and his second bowl of soup while sitting next to Kyle on a couch that had seen better days. He wasn’t hungry, having actually eaten last night, and he didn’t gain any nourishment from ‘real food’, but it was enjoyable and made him warm.

His phone rang after he finished his sandwich. It was his dad. “Hello?” Micheal said, through a mouthful of cheese and bread.

"We have a problem," John said.

"What kind of problem?"

"An Evelyn related problem."


	2. Sleepover

Michael's phone was fished out of his bowl of Ramen by Kyle approximately twenty seconds after he dropped it and failed to respond to any stimuli. "Micheal?" Kyle asked, concerned. He put down his food and rested a cautious hand on the blond's shoulder. It was platonic enough not to upset the older man's delicate sensibilities.

It took another three minutes for Micheal to break from his comatose state, and when he did it was with a string of profanity so great it would make nuns drop dead. "That mother  _fucking_ , cock  _sucking_ , back stabbing, treacherous, shit sponge worthless anus dick-nosed crotch goblin fuckweasel son of a  _crackwhore._ I'll find her and kill her with my bare hands and a fucking rusty knife. Her and her creepy fucking cat owl."

Kyle and May sat there with twin looks of confusion and awe at what had just left the boy's mouth. "Micheal, are you okay?" Kyle finally asked.

Micheal growled. "No, I am not. I'm not fucking okay," he said. "I'm am the farthest thing from okay. I'm-I'm-I'm Jesus cocksucking Christ I-- " His anger was rapidly dissipating to be replaced with crushing realization. His lip trembled and his voice broke. "I can't-I'm not-I just"

"What--Micheal what are you doing?" Kyle did  _not_  squeak as Micheal crawled in to his lap. "Micheal, May is right there in case you forgot." The blond sniffed and buried his face into Kyle's chest. "I-um, okay. Should I, um." He slowly wrapped his arms around the short boy's back, and Micheal finally started sobbing.

Micheal didn't have the capacity for holding one emotion very long. Maybe it was because of his chosen mastery, or maybe it was because he was too small to sustain more than one feeling at a time, or maybe he was just a moody teenager. Regardless, he had a tendancy to swing rapidly from one emotion to the next.

"Evelyn burned down my house," he said into Kyle's shirt. His knees tightened around the older's waist and he grabbed around Kyle's neck, holding him tight. "All my scrolls, my clothes, my tomes, my  _bones_ , everything's gone. I--what am I gonna do?

Kyle--who was still very not okay with the whole Micheal-in-lap situation--resisted throwing him off and swallowed down the words of reprimand he had prepared for the blond, and instead he started rubbing his friend's back soothingly. Baby steps.

"Why can't she just leave me alone?" Micheal hiccuped. "She started this whole thing! I--ow!" He rubbed at the side of his head where Kyle had bonked him. "What was that for?"

"You were lighting up, and I'd like to keep my personage clear of burns." Micheal stared at him through watery eyes like he didn't quite comprehend what was happening. If a fire mage let their emotions get out of hand--as Micheal did with alarming frequency--random parts of their bodies had a tendency to burst in to flame, as Micheal's hands had begun to do before Kyle stopped him.

"Uh, Micheal?" May asked timidly, not wanting to set the boy off. Micheal sniffed and turned to acknowledge her. "Not to question you or anything but, didn't you tell me that you put level fifty three phobia charms on all your books?"

Micheal's eyes widened, and he hopped up from his perch on Kyle's lap and wrapped his arms around the girl sitting a few feet away. "May River Stevens! You are a genius!" He yelled.

"Uh, thanks?" May said, a little uncomfortable with his sudden proximity.

Micheal's head was like a pinball machine. He was constantly bouncing from one thing to the other, magically keeping track of all his thoughts in a way a normal human couldn't, and sometimes he ran out of tries and had to have a few more coins deposited, in the form of words or sleep or food or physical contact. What May had just done was deposit coins so that Micheal could keep going, for a little while at least.

Micheal released his hold on her and loped back over to Kyle. He dropped back into his lap and kissed him. It was a proper kiss with a tongue and teeth nipping at lips and hands in hair, and Kyle was really not okay with sharing this level of contact while May was five feet from them.

Just as Kyle was about to throw the blond off of himself, Micheal hopped up again. "I have to blip over to my house right now!" he exclaimed. "See if the charms were strong enough. Bye! Love you!" He leaned down to place one last quick kiss on Kyle's forehead. He turned and muttered a few words in a long dead language before disappearing in a small flash and leaving the room smelling of ozone.

May grinned evilly at her brother through the slight haze left by the blip. He humphed, crossed his arms over his chest, and sank down into the couch. He was beyond uncomfortable. "Say anything and I'm never speaking to you again," he warned.

"Love you!" May singsonged, mimicking Micheal's voice.

Kyle flipped her off with both hands. "I hate you," he said.

"Ah, but I thought I was your favorite sister," May teased. Kyle threw a couch pillow at her.

\----

"Dad!" Micheal called, pushing through the crowd of people gathered around what used to be his house. He could see the much taller man at the front of the group of people, talking to one of the fire fighters. "Dad!" Micheal called again, hands waving in the air frantically.

"Micheal! There you are!" John said when he finally noticed his son. "Where were you?" he demanded." You look like hell."

Micheal's eyes were rimmed red-- redder than his flushed face, and he had a bit of snot running from his nose. He snuffed and wiped at his nose with his sleeve.

"I was at May's," he said," I told you, she had a lesson today."

John made a noise like that was barely a good excuse. "Why were you crying?" He asked it like Micheal had been caught with the murder weapon.

"I wasn't!" the boy protested.

"And why do you smell like that?"

Micheal gulped. "Like what?" he asked, defensive. He had showered, uh, the day before! Yeah, before he went out. He should smell fine.

John sniffed around Micheal's neck and shoulders. "You smell like windingwar. I thought this May person was a fire mage."

Windingwar was a common magic weed that was used almost exclusively by warlocks. It was hard to work with, and if you miscalculated your measurements your entire project would be ruined. It was looked down upon by most higher up members of the magic comunity, much the same way illegal drugs are viewed.

"No! No, May is a mage," Micheal attested," she has an older brother, a warlock whose specialty is potions. He's always around the stuff, and I'm always around him." John raised an eyebrow. "I'm willing to admit that I'm teaching his sister so I can get in his pants."

John sighed, and Micheal swore that he saw part of him die inside. "You have no shame," he hissed quietly. Micheal refrained from retorting that there was nothing to be ashamed of.

"Was anyone hurt?" the boy asked his father, standing on his toe tips to survey what he could of the damage to his house.

It was really about half a house; Micheal could see that now that the smoke and ash had somewhat cleared. Most of the damage had been done to the second floor. Micheal's room was completely gone, but prickles of hope rose in him when he thought he spied some of his books in a pile on the charred remains of what used to be his bedroom floor.

"No," John replied," I was the only one in the house at the time."

"That's good," Micheal said. "I must say I'm offended that she would use my own element against me. Any idea what level the flames were at?"

Everything in their world had a level. Dragons ranged from level twenty to level seventy-seven--the highest level. You had to be level seven in your chosen mastery before you qualified for an apprenticeship. Seventeen was when you could seek out a guild, and forty-one was when you were considered learned enough to instruct others. Micheal was level forty-four, the youngest fire mage to ever reach that level.

"I'd say somewhere around twenty one, if I had to guess," John said," nothing too severe. She's not a fire mage after all, and it doesn't take much to burn down a house." Micheal breathed a sigh of relief; his books were safe from the fire, however--he glanced at the fire engine.

"Wha'd'you think that hose is at?" he asked his father, his heart sinking a little at the prospect of the water getting to his books after they survived the fire. He didn't think it was strong enough, but Micheal had always been a horrible judge of those types of things.

"Hmm?" John appraised the engine for a moment. "I'd say around thirty; why?"

"Good, that's what I thought, and because I had a lot of hard to find books in my room, and I was... worried about the phobia charms breaking."

John nodded before he turned aside to one of the firemen, asking questions and completely ignoring his son. "Welp." Micheal sighed and looked around.

Wow, firemen were hot--aesthetically. They weren't on fire or anything. That would have been bad.

Micheal decided that he was going to enjoy the view; so he wandered over toward the engine and just stood there. He probably looked really creepy, thinking back on it. He had a soup stain on his shirt and dark rings under his eyes; he still smelled like booze from the night before along with a new aroma of street drugs, and he was kind of eye fucking a fireman. Oh well, he'd done worse.

\----

Micheal was allowed inside the house to retrieve his books after all the firemen had left, and the crowd had dissipated. They had warned him not to spend too much time on the second floor, though, as it might be unstable.

It was nearly dark as he cautiously made his way through the rubble that used to be the top floor of his home, diligently searching for his books and any other items that may have survived.

Both he and his dad had phobia charms on their most important items. Phobia charms were charms that protected against certain types of magic or certain elements: fire, water, poison, and ice just to name a few. Micheal had put general phobia charms on his books. They were slightly lower levels than specific charms, but more convenient.

It looked like his charms had held, for the most part.  _Potions!,_ a hard to come by recipe books that he was planning to give to Kyle for his birthday, had lost a few pages when it was thrown around during the commotion. Micheal figured that Kyle would have to go without pages 79 and 80. According to the index it was just how to make tonics strawberry flavored; so he didn't think it was too important.

His terribly large, unnamed tome of spells, charms, simple potions, remedial herbs, and general witchcraft was completely unscathed, and he was very thankful for that. It was something of a family heirloom; it was added to every generation as new things were discovered.

The rest of his books and scrolls were also in good condition, having sustained minimal damage. A few had torn pages, but overall everything survived. The same could not be said for most of his other things, though.

His room was completely decimated. Broken glass from his various ingredient bottles was mixed in with the ash and debris, and it crunched as he walked. The smell of recently cleared smoke and burned wood was very calming to Micheal. He had grown accustomed to it in his years of training, and it always relaxed him, which was really the opposite of what it should have done.

He padded carefully over to where his closet used to be, checking every step that the floor would support his weight. He knew that there was a box somewhere around the vicinity of his closet that was full of items with phobia charms on them. Items that, if he left them to be found by someone else--i.e, his father--could prove rather damning. They had been charmed out of necessity rather than paranoia.

Halfway to his intended destination Micheal noticed something glinting among the ashes near where his bed used to be. He knew what it was immediately and made a slight detour to pick up the small silver ring embedded with a green jewel. It had belonged to his mother, his biological mother. He hadn't known the woman very well at all, having only met her twice before she died, but he gained his strange demon genes and slight frame from her.

She had given him the ring the first time they met, saying that it didn't have any magical properties and was by all accounts an ordinary ring, but not everything had to be powerful to be important. She had placed it in his hand and told him to look after it.

Micheal smiled and slipped the ring into his right ring finger. When it was too loose there he moved it over to his middle finger before standing up. He retrieved the cardboard box from where it was hidden under a pile of debris. It was about two feet big all around. He would have to clean it's contents later and find a safe place to hide it. Maybe Kyle wouldn't mind holding it for a while.

He returned to the ground floor after scavenging a pair of jeans and his favorite shirt that he had apparently charmed at some point. John had pulled his truck into the driveway, and there was a pile of items inside of it that had survived the fire. Micheal added his spoil to the pile, but he held the box close to himself.

The pile consisted mostly of books and magic supplies that were either impervious to fire and water damage by virtue of what they were or ones that had been charmed. Pretty much the entire first floor had survived with minimal damage, but the house wasn't suited for living in.

John, who was standing beside the open driver's side door and gulping down the contents of a water bottle, looked over when Micheal set his things in the bed of the truck. He finished off his drink and tossed the empty bottle on the floor of the cab. "I was gonna get a hotel room for now," he said to his son, walking around to stand across the bed from him. "Until we find a more permanent solution."

Micheal nodded, but he didn't really like the idea of sharing a room with his father for any length of time. "Could I, maybe, stay at May's?" he asked timidly. He wanted to stay with Kyle, really, but his dad did not need to know that.

John raised an eyebrow. "Our home has just burned down," he said.

"Yes."

"And you want to spend the night trying to hook up with your students older brother?"

"When you put it like that it sounds so bad," Micheal said. John looked unimpressed. "He has a shitload of wards around the place, and I just feel safer there."

John sighed and rolled his eyes. "I suppose you can go, but take this." John dug through the contents of the truck bed until he found a leather pouch. He opened it and pulled out a smooth green stone about two inches in diameter. He tossed it to Micheal, who caught it with ease. "Beacon stone," John said," so I can find you there if I need to."

Micheal nodded and shoved the rock in his pants' pocket. "Call me if anything happens," he said.

"I will."

Micheal grabbed one of his books out of the pile and hitched the box under his arm a little. "Well, see you when I see you," he said, before turning and blipping out of existence.

\----

Kyle was lying on his bed, stoned out of some coherency and most inhibitions when Micheal got there. He didn't even blink when the blond appeared, he just continued to lounge on the bed and enjoy the tingling in his limbs. He occasionally shook the pill bottle he was holding so that he could watch the contents flounce about inside their container.

Micheal sighed in disappointment at the sight. "I thought you said you were going to give it up," he accused, setting the things he was carrying down on Kyle's desk.

When Kyle got high, he had a tendency to "reorganize" his room. In this case, "reorganize" meant "take all of the things out of their places and put them in piles based on color." The room was dark, the only thing adding any illumination being the quickly setting sun. Micheal could still see his boyfriend sprawled half nude on his bed, a dopey grin on his face. He could also see most of the various tattoos adorning said boyfriend. Some of them were really fucking stupid--like the Pokemon on his ass--but most of them were there for a reason. The Parental Advisory sticker on top of his left hip was always made Micheal laugh.

"Baby steps," Kyle said with a lazy smile. "Want one?" He shakily held out the bottle that at one time had held penicillin for May's bronchitis. It now held a number of pill capsules filled with a reddish white powder: windingwar pills. Every time Micheal caught him Kyle had offered him some; he had refused every time.

"No, I do not want any of your drugs, you druggie," Micheal said, grabbing the bottle out of Kyle's hand. "And I'm cutting you off for the night," he added, setting the pills beside his box.

Kyle blinked for a moment, brain slowly taking in the new development."Ah, c'mon, dude, not cool." Kyle pouted--honest to God  _pouted_ \--at him, but made no move to rescue the bottle. He was already high, so he didn't really need it at the moment.

"You are a twenty year old man," Micheal said. "You cannot pull off a pout."

"Can try," Kyle said.

Micheal rolled his eyes. "Can I stay here tonight?" he asked.

It was a testament to Kyle's mental state that he didn't even blink before he shrugged and said," Yeah sure, c'mere." He patted the spot on the bed next to him and held out one hand in invitation.

The blond toed off his shoes and stripped down to his boxers. He wasn't drunk, so sleeping in clothes wasn't his MO at the moment. He expertly wiggled the covers out from under his boyfriend--who refused to lift himself up to make the task easier--before he settled himself halfway on top of Kyle in the too small bed and pulled the blankets back over both of them.

Kyle rested his arms around Micheal. "Time sleep now," he decided. Now that his source of entertainment had been taken, and there was a warm, soft someone making him drowsy, it was really the only option.

It was only seven o'clock, and Micheal really probably should have been doing something productive. But Kyle was smiling happily and wrapping his arms around him and letting himself  _feel_  in a way that never happened when the older male was sober. Micheal was completely out of coins for the second time that day, and Kyle was like a winning slot machine. So the smaller boy decided that turning in a few hours early was completely okay.

"Yeah, okay," he agreed, nuzzling his face into Kyle's neck. "Time to sleep."

Kyle kissed Micheal's cheek sloppily and was snoring a few seconds after that, mouth slightly open and arms loose around Micheal's waist. Micheal rolled his eyes, but said nothing. He'd only spent the night a handful of times, but he thought he could get used to this.


	3. Meet the Family

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sooo, you may want to go back and read chapters one and two, I've made slight alterations to the plot. basically John knows that Micheal's gay, but still isn't happy about it. Also Annie's a lesbian bc you can never go wrong with lesbians.

**Chapter Three**

When Kyle woke up on Sunday morning from some hard won hours of sleep, it was because Micheal's hair was tickling his nose. He slowly blinked open his eyes and smiled at the sight of the smaller boy curled up against his chest. It quickly changed to a frown, however when he noticed the crotchual situation. Namely, Micheal was rubbing his crotch against Kyle's leg. He swallowed tightly and poked the blond in the shoulder.

"Micheal." A small whine in response. "Micheal, wake up." Micheal squeaked slightly and opened his eyes.

When he realized where he was, a lazy grin split his face. "Morning, sunshine," he said, voice a little dry and catching in his throat when he spoke. He nuzzled his face more in to Kyle's neck and sighed happily. "I could get used to this."

"Micheal," Kyle said, voice urgent," please get your dick off of my leg,  _please_."

"Huh?" Micheal asked, confused. It took him a second to take stock of his whole body. He squeaked and quickly rolled until he was sitting up, legs crossed. "Sorry," he mumbled.

Kyle was in like stage seven denial. He was so far in the closet that he had passed not only Narnia, but also Dean Winchester. But he also had a boyfriend. Kyle was confusing.

Kyle knew he liked dudes; his sister knew he liked dudes; his boyfriend definitely knew he liked dudes, but he refused to actually say the words aloud or do anything beyond chaste kissing. Micheal didn't really understand what the big deal was; Kyle wasn't even gay. He was bisexual, and he wasn't even  _that_  bisexual. There were like two guys he'd ever found attractive.

Nevertheless, Micheal was a good boyfriend and didn't push it. Of course this meant that he had to go find a source of food outside of the relationship. Most people wouldn't be okay with it, and Micheal hadn't gotten up the guts to ask. He wondered what Kyle thought he was doing since the older boy knew what he was. He had, however, decided that it was a conversation for some time far, far in the future.

For now, he just sighed and jerked a thumb toward the bedroom door, scratching the back of his neck. "I'll just go then," he mumbled sadly.

He  _knew_ , logically, that he shouldn't be so upset by it, and he knew that Kyle definitely still liked him--and, like, maybe loved him, y'know, maybe; they hadn't said it or anything, but it was a definite possibility. But when your boyfriend refuses to acknowledge the fact that he's your boyfriend--or attracted to you at all--to anyone, including himself, it kind of makes you think that there's something wrong with you. Also, Micheal was an overly emotional drama queen, and he needed to stop thinking.

Kyle tossed an arm over his eyes and said," Don't sound so downtrodden." He peeked out from under his arm at the blond. "Jesus, you look like a kicked puppy."

Micheal blinked. He was not crying. He was not. God damn it he was. Maybe it was yesterday catching up with him, but he started blubbering. Kyle sighed and slung an arm around Micheal's middle. He pulled the blond down until his back was flush against the older male's chest.

Micheal squeaked and looked over his shoulder in confusion, sniffling slightly. "I didn't mean to upset you," Kyle said softly, nosing into the back of Micheal's neck. "I just wanted you to stop humping me."

"S-sorry," the blond said. "I'm just running on empty, and my emotions are high because of yesterday. And I was worried you didn't like me anymore, and I haven't been sleeping well, and I'm worried about Evelyn, and--"

Kyle squeezed his friend's arm gently, causing the blond to stop talking. "You don't have to explain yourself," he said sleepily. "I don't hate you, now go back to sleep." He kissed the back of Micheal's neck before falling asleep again.

Micheal smiled like an idiot and rested his head back against Kyle's chest. "You asshole," he said softly," I love you."

\----

Micheal was  _unspeakably grateful_  that Kyle had warded his house against anyone without his permission to be there. (Well, he had had someone  _else_  ward it. Kyle was good at potions and cooking and making things explode, but not much else.) Because of his precautions, the two boys were woken up by the doorbell screeching at them, instead of Micheal's father murdering them.

Micheal woke up first, and him suddenly rocketing upright was what woke up Kyle. The older man snorted and blinked, hair sticking up the way it always did when Micheal had been running his hands through it for hours. He clicked his tongue like it was stuck to the roof of his mouth and blinked again.

"I know it takes you a few years to wake up in the morning, but my dad's at the door, so please try to compose yourself."

"How d'you know it's him?" Kyle asked as the doorbell continued to chime.

"Because I can smell him," Micheal said.

"Oh yeah, sometimes I forget you're not merely human like the rest of us."

"C'mon, we gotta get up before he breaks down the door," Micheal said, already standing and looking for his pants.

"But it's  _Sunday,"_ Kyle whined.

"And my father is about to break down your front door, now  _get up_." Kyle groaned again, and May shouted from somewhere in the apartment.

"You want me to get that, or should I wait until the neighbors complain?"

Kyle muttered under his breath about stupid sisters and stupid fathers and fucking doorbells interrupting his god damned Sunday morning; all he had wanted to do was to sleep and cuddle and maybe kiss Micheal for extended periods of time, but  _noooo_  some asshole he'd never met just had to come to his home at--what time was it?--nine thirty in the god damned morning on a Sunday. He did not sign up for this  _bullshit._

He groaned and hauled himself out of bed. " I guess. I'll go get the door," he said, trying to fix his bed hair, but not actually helping at all. The never ending doorbell was starting to hurt his head. He blinked slowly at Micheal, who was frantically dressing and putting his shirt on inside out, and smiled.

The blond stop moving and said," What? You need to go let him in!" Kyle leaned down and kissed Micheal quickly. The blond went silent, a hand coming up to his mouth. "What was that for."

"Because you're adorable, and you're also putting on my shirt." He tugged the bottom of the shirt, which came down to about four inches above Micheal's knees. "Thought you might want to know."

"Go!" Micheal said, pushing Kyle toward the door. The man smiled as he was shoved out of his own room by a teenager who was twelve inches shorter than him.

May was standing by the door looking confused. "Who the hell is at our house this early on a Sunday? Do you owe somebody money again?"

"No, I don't owe somebody money again," Kyle said, walking to the door. "It's Micheal's dad."

May raised an eyebrow. "Why's he here?"

"Because Micheal's here. He blipped in last night."

The doorbell stopped, and John instead started beating on the door and yelling. "Micheal! If you don't open this door in ten seconds I will knock it off it's hinges!" This brought the siblings' attention back to the door, and Kyle hurried to unlock and open it.

John was shorter than Kyle, and that made him happy. "Who the hell are you?" the older Rhyder asked. "Where's my son?"

"He's getting dressed," Kyle told him. John scowled, and Kyle knew that the man was probably assuming things much worse than what had actually happened. "I'm Kyle; that's May." He stepped aside and pointed to his sister. She was wearing pajama shorts and a camisole, and her hair was pulled back in to a ponytail.

"I didn't know we were having company," she said with a shrug. Kyle rolled his eyes.

"Well, come in I suppose," Kyle said, stepping back and allowing John to enter. The man seemed unimpressed by Kyle's living space. They  _were_  on somewhat opposite ends of the spectrum income wise, but the obvious disdain was rather rude.

John looked Kyle up and down. Kyle knew that he looked dead on his feet, having not gotten very much sleep the night before. He figured John was probably jumping to the wrong conclusions as to what he might have been doing late in to the night. Really it was just that Micheal had taken his sleeping pills before he'd taken all of them, and windingwar could only be taken once every twelve hours.

"Do I know you?" he asked, eyebrows scrunched.

"I've just introduced myself; so yes, you do." Kyle wasn't going to punch Micheal's dad. He wasn't. Because then Micheal would be mad at him, and that would be bad. But he could piss him off as much as possible.

Micheal came out of Kyle's room then, saving the older male from the wrath of John. The blond had put his own pants back on, but elected to keep wearing Kyle's AT-ST shirt.

"Hey, Dad," he said, coming to stand by his boyfriend. Micheal was fighting the urge to drape himself across Kyle like and expensive whore. It would piss off his dad to no end, but then Kyle would be angry at him. "So, what happened?"

"Well, the house isn't suitable for living in, so I'm staying at a hotel for now and looking for a more long term option while I get everything in order."

"Can I stay here?" Micheal asked immediately. John blinked at him, caught off guard by the interruption. His son was holding on to the Kyle person's arm like a rich man's date and bouncing on his feet in anticipation of his father's answer.

"Is that really a good idea?" John asked, looking down at his son.

Micheal nodded enthusiastically. "Yes! I can blip to school, and you won't have to deal with me while you're busy doing...whatever you've got to do, and I'll be able to help May every day, and--"

"You sound like a ten year old babbling girl," John interrupted. "Fine, you can stay here. Though why you'd want to is beyond me," he wrinkled his nose at the living room.

"Right, okay, thanks, bye, Dad," Micheal said, making shooing motions with his hands. John's replying glare probably could have wilted plants, but Micheal just continued to wave his hands at his father.

"I'll come by again tonight." Micheal continued to wave him away frantically. John sighed. "Yes, okay, I'm going," he consented. He turned and opened the door to leave. "Try not to catch anything while you're here," he added as he closed the door.

"Wow, he's a real asshole," Kyle said.

"Yup," Micheal confirmed.

"Agreed," May said at the same time.

Micheal stretched up on his toes and wrapped his arms around Kyle's neck. The taller male sighed and allowed the blond to kiss him quickly. The shorter boy smiled widely at his boyfriend, and Kyle just patted him on the head tiredly.

"I'm going back to bed," he said, hand falling from Micheal's head as he walked away. "Under no circumstances should you wake me up," he added when he was halfway down the hall. "No, you can't join me," he annexed as he closed his door.

"He's always grouchy in the morning," May said, patting Micheal on the back. "It's not your fault." The blond boy looked like he would crumple into a sad mess any second now.

May was a mind reader. Not a literal one. As already established in this narrative, May was training to be a fire mage. But she was a mind reader in the same way that a reasonable person can conclude that a person who has previously screamed at the sight of a mouse will likely scream at the sight of another mouse.

She knew that, because Kyle hadn't immediately jumped at the chance to spend time with him, Micheal assumed he'd done something horribly wrong. She knew this because Micheal was incredibly predictable when it came to his reactions. He was unreasonable, but predictable.

"You didn't do anything wrong," May said again. "Now come on, I want you to show me your best fleacra. I bet it's a unicorn."

"It's a flamingo, actually," Micheal corrected as May dragged him toward her room.

\----

Two hours, a horrible attempt at breakfast, a closet raid, and a very enthusiastic--though somewhat quiet-- karaoke rendition of " _The Cell Block Tango_ " later, Micheal was in a little black dress, and May's bed was on fire. The two should not be left together, unsupervised for any amount of time.

"Put it out! Put it out! Holy shit! I told you you weren't ready!" Micheal yelled.

"You're the trained mage here! You put it out!" May shot back.

"Oh yeah, I am," Micheal said, suddenly very relaxed. He held out his hands, and the fire leapt from the bed to them. He calmly extinguished the flames in his palms.

"We're both idiots," May said, flopping down on to her bed. There wasn't too much damage to it. Thankfully, Micheal had put some minor charms on pretty much everything in her room when he started teaching her.

"What can I say? We're dumb blonds," Micheal responded. "How long do you think he'll be asleep?"

"If he took the full dosage," May said," another six hours at least. If he decided to cut it down and only take half or so, probably about another two or three."

"Hm. What should we do?"

" _I_ should probably do some homework for actual school," May said with a sigh.

"Oh, okay, I'll just go then," Micheal said. "I'll find something to do. Thanks for the clothing." He gestured down to his current attire: a black dress that ended partially down his thigh. All of his clothes were either burned, dirty, or in the room with Kyle; so May had loaned him something to wear.

"No problemo," she said with a thumbs up. "FYI, if he fucks you in that, I don't want it back. Actually not even full fucking, if he so much as fondles an ass-cheek, burn the soiled garment."

Micheal rolled his eyes. "I don't think we need to go to such an extreme."

"What if your older sister borrowed one of your dresses," May began, but Micheal cut her off."

"I'm a size smaller than her," he corrected.

"Suspension of disbelief," she reasoned. "What if she borrowed on of your dresses and some dude felt up her tits in it. Would you want it back?"

"If I didn't know, yeah!" Micheal protested. "I bought like all of my dresses."

"Are we seriously laying on my bed talking about clothes?" May asked herself aloud.

"Well, technically you're lying," Micheal corrected.

She rolled her eyes. "Shut up, guilding. Some of us ain't too concerned 'bout the correctness state of our grammar."

Micheal's face soured. "I think I just died a little inside," he admitted," and don't call me guilding."

A guilding was, in it's simplest form, an absolute prick. More specifically is was an absolute prick with a sense of entitlement and no work ethic because Daddy or Mommy was high up in an elite guild, ensuring their child's success regardless of performance. Everyone hated them, and, technically speaking, Micheal was one of them. May told him as much.

"Yeah, but I'm not an asshole," he reasoned.

"You kind of are sometimes," the girl informed him.

"I am nothing but a pleasure to be around."

May snorted. "Whatever you say, Suoh Tamaki." She laughed at her own joke.

"Bitch, what did you just call me?!"

"No, but it's perfect!" May gasped, giggling between words. "You're a rich blond drama queen with daddy issues an homosexual tendencies."

"I am not a drama queen!" Micheal yelled.

"Whatever you say, Tamaki-senpai.'

"I will murder you!" Micheal proclaimed. He jumped on top of her and started to ruthlessly torture her with tickles.

She yelped and tried to push him off. "Stop! You asshole! Ha!" She pushed him off of her and the momentum carried him to the other wall of her room, the one between her room and Kyle's. It was then that they realized that, if their yelling hadn't woken him up, that loud thump certainly had, and they should start fearing for their lives right about now.

When Kyle came shambling out of his bedroom, he looked like he was ready to murder the next person who breathed too loudly. He threatened Micheal with a gag, to which the blond responded by asking if this meant that he was finally gonna loose his gay virginity. The older male flipped him off and lurched away to "go make shitty coffee or something" and then start working. Micheal decided to follow him and watch, because potions was always his worst secondary, but when you watched a master do it, it was like, well, magic.

Kyle was in the kitchen, halfway through his first cup of coffee, when Micheal found him. He looked up at Micheal, and coffee shot out of his nose. "What on earth are you wearing?" he spluttered, looking for a tissue to clean his face.

"What?" Micheal said self-consciously. He looked down at himself and plucked at the fabric of th dress. "May loaned me this, since I don't have any clothes,"he said. "Does it not look good? I told her that it didn't look right without tits. She buys clothes for a double D; so I thought it looked kinda weird on my flat chest. And I don't like wearing dark colors, it contrasts too much with my skin. I think she put my other clothes in the wash; I might be able to change--"

"No, no, it, uh, it looks nice," Kyle said, burying his face in his coffee mug.

"Oh." Micheal's answering smile could have cured cancer and made the sky rain cotton candy. Kyle had never seen such a look of unbridled happiness.

"I'm still mad at you for waking me up," Kyle informed him.

Michael's smile drooped but didn't vanish completely. "Yeah, sorry about that," he said.

Kyle sighed and set down his now empty mug. "You hungry?" he asked, opening the fridge. "We've got, uh, whatever this is." He opened the container. "Okay, no that's moldy. Looks like we have leftover pork chops, oranges, or I could make soup again."

"I don't eat, remember?" Micheal said. He watched with an amused smirk as Kyle pulled out another container, sniffed it, and cringed.

"Oh yeah. Damn, I really need to go shopping," he mumbled. He decided that he could run on coffee for a few hours and poured himself another cup. "Coffee?" he asked, offering the pot to the blond.

Micheal shook his head. "Nah, I get really jittery and hyper when I drink coffee, and I makes me have to pee, and it makes me really hungry." Kyle tried to imagine a hyper Micheal, and shuddered at the thought.

There was silence. It wasn't exactly awkward, but it wasn't comfortable either. Kyle slurping down his coffee periodically broke it.

When he was partially done with his second cup, he refilled it once more and turned to leave the kitchen. "Better get to work," he said. Kyle snapped his fingers and piece of paper appeared in the air; he grabbed it and started reading through it. He paused after a moment.

"Wanna help me summon a demon?" he asked Micheal.


	4. Meanwhile

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fixed most of te formatting. Te italics are gone, but I'm not at home so I'll deal with it later.

Rings was a simple English vampire. He had more metal in his body that most people and a thing for a little redhead with a caffeine problem. Speaking of said redhead, she was currently curled up next to him in her bed, and he should probably leave her house before one of her sisters found him there.

But he wasn’t thinking about that, because he was asleep too. He stayed asleep until there was a loud knock on her door, waking them both. Rings bolted upright, but Maura sat up slowly, rubbing her eyes and groaning in annoyance.

Alexa, the one knocking, shouted, “Maura! Mom says it’s time to get up!” as she opened the door. When she entered, the blond blinked at the naked boy in her sister’s bed. “Oh, hi, Rings,” she said with a small wave,” didn’t know you were here.”

"Kinda the point," Maura explained, picking sleep out of one eye. "Lettiing your parents know that you intend to have vigorous sex with your boyfriend is generally a bad idea."

Alexa shrugged. “Can’t argue with you there. Have fun getting him out.” She turned to leave. “Oh! And Kim needs you whenever you’re free; she’s freaking out about her date.”

"Why’s it gotta be me?" Maura whined.

"Because, and I quote, ‘Cara is a slut, and everyone else in this family has the social proficiency of a rabid baboon.’ Personally, I think she should have sought out a fellow lesbian for this task, but what do I know?"

Maura groaned again, not bothering to correct Alexa because they had had that discussion five thousand times already. “Fiiine,” she consented. “I’ll play dating guru.”

"Thank you," Alexa said in a sickeningly sweet voice before leaving.

Maura groaned and flopped back on to her bed. “What are you smiling at?” she asked Rings.

"Huh? Oh, nothing, you’re just…cute when you wake up," he said, looking down at his hands. Being a vampire really had it’s perks when you embarrassed yourself as much as Rings did. He didn’t blush—or, he did, but when your blood was clear it didn’t actually affect anything.

"Don’t lie," Maura said, wrinkling her nose.

"I’m not! You get all cranky at everyone except me, and your hair is all fluffy, and you eat Reese’s puffs straight out of the box—I never understood why humans do that. You have all these special dishes for certain kinds of food and utensils to keep you from getting your hands dirty, yet more often than not you choose to forgo all of that and just eat with your hands." As he talked, he flailed his hands to express exactly how baffling he found her species.

"Rings."

"Yeah?"

"Shut up."

"Okay."

The vampire pointedly closed his mouth before blowing a piece of hair out of his face. His uncle kept saying that he needed to cut it, but shaggy hair made him feel secure, not that he’d ever say that.

Maura rolled her eyes at him and grudgingly got out of bed. “I’ll never get over you,” she said. Rings raised an eyebrow. “I mean, you’re a vampire!” she said, too loudly for Rings’ tastes. “You’re supposed to be suave and seductive and lure unsuspecting girls back to your evil lair before you drain them of blood. But look at you.” She motioned to him in his entirety. “You’re just…a dork.”

"I am not!" Rings protested as Maura decided whether or not the shorts she’d had on yesterday could be worn again. "I’m a cool guy."

"You kept your hat on while we fucked."

"So?"

"Your penguin hat. Your googly-eyed penguin hat."

"So?"

"It’s a good thing you’re cute," the redhead sighed.

"I resent that. I’m fucking adorable. Correct yourself at once."

"Make me," Maura teased.

"But then I’d have to get up," Rings reasoned.

"You’re going to have to get up anyway," she told him. “‘Cause my dad’s not gonna be too hot on the idea of you spending the night." She threw his pants at him, and they hit him in the face.

"Think he’d be okay with it if I explained that I literally can not get you pregnant?" Rings asked, grabbing the pants from his head and working on turning them right side out. Maura snorted and rolled her eyes at him.

"Doubt it."

Rings dropped the pants on the bed and smirked at her. “What if I told him that I was an unholy creature of the night—” He sat up on his knees and grabbed her around the waist, pulling her closer to him. He nuzzled into her neck. “—and that that I intend to corrupt you to my evil, blood drinking ways.”

"He’d call the looney farm," Maura said, laughing.

"That where they’re keeping Daffy Duck these days?"

Maura laughed and hit him on the chest. “Put your pants on,” she told him. He grumbled but complied, releasing her from his hold and tugging his dark jeans back on.

Maura turned around to look through her dresser. “So what’re your plans for today?”she asked, trying to decide between the comfortable bra and the one that made her boobs look like they’d been professionally done.

Rings paused in pulling on his second boot and looked up at her. “I was planning on getting my ear done again,” he said.

Maura turned to him with a raised eyebrow. “You still got room for more holes?” Her eyes zeroed in on the ear that wasn’t hidden behind hair—the left one—and tried to figure out where her boyfriend was going to put more metal. He already had three lobe piercings, three cartilage, two helix, a conch, and a tragus.

"I’m gonna get an industrial in this one," he said, pulling back the hair from his right ear. It was the same as the left, but without the cartilage piercings.

"Any plans after that?"

Rings pulled on his aforementioned penguin hat, hiding both ears from view and shading his face a bit. “Oli wants me to work on my curses. Apparently I’ve been slacking.” He smirked up at her. “You wouldn’t know why that is, would you?”

"I haven’t a clue," Maura said innocently. She had decided on the comfortable bra and was slipping a shirt on.

"Yeah, yeah. You see my shirt?" Maura pointed it out to him on the floor. He grabbed it and put it on before standing up.

"You wanna grab dinner and a movie tonight?" she asked.

"Sounds like a date," Rings agreed. He kissed her quickly before opening her window. "I’ll text you when I get done," he said, before climbing out of the window and dropping down to the ground.

Rings was lucky that the Bakers were a family of indoor people who loathed the sun about as much as he did. As such, the back windows were closed, the blinds drawn, and no one was in the back yard. He walked around to the front yard and started walking, hands in his pockets, humming quietly to himself.

He luckily did not see many people on his journey. Lucky because he was fairly certain that a large portion of the makeup he usually wore had rubbed off during the night, and he didn’t exactly look human without it.

The vampire had to stop by his house to grab his wallet and a quick snack before he did anything else. His uncle, Oliver, was there when he entered, passed out on the couch. By the time the older vampire got done with work, he was too exhausted to make it to his room. Rings was very careful not to wake him up as he raided the fridge for a blood bag and traipsed back to his room for his wallet.

He plopped on to his bed to enjoy his morning meal, biting a small hole in to one corner of the bag and leisurely sucking the blood out. That was the best way he had found to eat without looking like some sort of savage afterward.

These things were actually pretty easy to get ahold of if you knew the right people, and when your guardian was two hundred and thirty you always knew the right people. The downside to this method was that bagged blood always tasted dank, like water that had been left in a cup for three days but was drank anyway because whoever left it there was too lazy to get a fresh glass.

Rings had only had fresh blood once before in his life. Maura—Maura liked some weird things. Rings hadn’t signed on to take care of a nymphomaniac when he entered that relationship, but he really couldn’t complain.

He finished his breakfast and tossed the bag. He put on deodorant and a fresh shirt before he went to the bathroom to quite literally put on his face.

The thing about clear blood was that it didn’t sound like it would be a big deal, but it was. And Rings not only had clear blood—as all vampires do—he also had pale skin and naturally light hair. Together these traits gave him the appearance, aptly, of a corpse.

His lips were clear and the same color as the rest if him—pale as fuck. His tongue and the inside of his mouth were grey. There were no visible blood vessels in his eyes, or anywhere on his body, for that matter, and, if you paid attention, his eyelids were actually shear.

He probably wore more makeup than even Cara, Maura’s oldest sister—foundation, blush, lipstick, eyeshadow, eyeliner, mascara, anything that would possibly add some color to him— just to pass as human. He could never quite hide his otherness, but he could conceal it enough to pass.

There were some things he couldn’t hide, of course. The lack of visible blood vessels being one, especially in his eyes, and there was no way to make his tear ducts stand out. His fangs and red eyes were also not concealable. “I have a condition,” was always a good excuse, but people still stared too much for his liking.

Forty five minutes later, when he looked suitably alive, Rings donned his hat once again to conceal his much lighter hair roots; he would need to pick up some dye later and fix that, too.

Considering the fact that prolonged exposure to sunlight would kill him—even more quickly because of his lighter skin, you would have though that Rings would blip everywhere. It was the fastest form of transportation available, and it just made sense for him to use it all the time, right?

No.

Rings was like the second worst apprentice that he knew. That was a lie. Rings was the worst apprentice that he knew. He couldn’t turn water to ice, much less transport himself via the veil to any location of his choosing.

So driving. At the very least he would drive, right?

His uncle couldn’t drive. And neither of them really fancied Rings spending extended periods of time in a small enclosed space with a stranger. Plus driving on the right side of the road was just weird.

So Rings walked places. It was contrary to logic and made him much more likely to keel over, but it was his only option. He didn’t really like it, though, because it gave more people more opportunities to gawk at him.

The bell chimed as Rings pushed to door open to the same piercing shop he had been going to for four years. It was small, but the people there did their jobs well. The man behind the counter greeted him with familiarity and inquired as to what he was there for. The vampire explained what he wanted done and was told to sit down in one of the seats near the window.

The man behind the counter, Ron, made his way to one of the back rooms and said something to someone, neither of which could Rings hear or see. “It’ll just be a few minutes,” Ron said before coming to sit down in a chair next to Rings’ perch on the sofa.

Rings liked Ron. He was a strongly built man who had just turned twenty seven the year before. He was of average height with a red beard and a septum piercing. He found even Rings agonizing attempts at humor funny, and, when he had learned that Rings had never had it, he took the vampire out for ice cream.

Rings didn’t strictly need human food to survive, and he didn’t have the sweet tooth that his Cousin Liam did, but he recognized the gesture nonetheless as one of friendship. Ron was like his weird older brother who made it his life mission to get Rings to eat every type of human food available. The man of course had no idea that Rings had never eaten these things not because he was sheltered, but because he just had no desire to. He had learned over the course of their friendship that he really really liked any sort of citrus.

"So how’s it going? Haven’t seen you in—what’s it been—six months?"

"Since I got the tragus," Rings agreed, pointing out the stud in his visible ear.

"What you here for?"

"Getting an industrial in my right."

"You still got enough room for that?" Ron asked disbelievingly.

"Yes," Rings said. He tucked his hair behind his right ear and turned it toward the man. "See?"

"Yeah, yeah, just checking," Ron said. "You still dating that redhead? What was her name? Mary? Martha?"

"Maura," Rings supplied. "Yeah, we’re still together." The vampire didn’t question why, after three years, Ron still did not know her name. He had know the man long enough to know that he only remembered the names of people that he liked.

"Still don’t know why you put yourself through that. You gotta get a spine," Ron said. This was an old discussion that seemed to come up every time they met. "I’d never let a woman tell me what to do like that."

"Might be why you’re single," Rings offered. Ron laughed like Rings had actually said something funny.

"Maybe, maybe. Still, she’s a bit much."

Rings sat back in his chair and laughed a moment. “Maura is the kind of person who is always on the verge of starting an orgy,” Rings said, making Ron raise an eyebrow. Before he could elaborate, a door to a back room opened, and a woman with a new hole in her head and very red right ear stepped out. She was talking to a young man in his early twenties who was explaining to her the care she would need to take with her new piercing.

After a few moments, she handed him some cash, and he handed her a plastic bag with what she would need in it. She left the shop, an the man came over to the two others.

"Okay I’m ready for the industrial now," the man said.

Rings raised an eyebrow and looked at Ron. “Where’s Krissy?” he asked, very uncomfortable with the idea of this strange new man poking holes in him.

"She’s out on maternity leave," the new man said. Rings refused to look him in the eye. "I’m Chad. I started working here a month ago."

Chad had turquoise hair, an eyebrow piercing, and what looked to be a tattoo of a black rose going down from his clavicle to be hidden beneath his V-neck shirt. Rings did not like this Chad person. Not based on appearance, but the other man was too loud for his tastes, too outgoing. It made him uncomfortable.

Rings once again looked to Ron for an explanation, glaring this time, trying to convey with his eyes, “The fuck didn’t you tell me this when I walked in the shop.”

The bearded man ignored him. “Oh that’s right,” Ron said, speaking to Chad. “You’ve never met our resident pincushion; have you?” Chad shook his head. “This is Rings,” Ron said, gesturing to said pincushion.

"Rings?" Chad asked, stifling a laugh.

Rings fought the urge to growl at him. “Been called that since third grade. I’m not gonna stop now; am I?”

Chad put his hands up in a gesture of peace. “I just think it’s a funny coincidence combined with your aesthetic.”

"Why didn’t you tell me that Krissy wasn’t here when I came in?" Rings asked Ron.

Ron answered with a shrug and said,” He does good work; we’ve got no complaints. I didn’t think it would be a problem.”

Chad’s smile and eyebrows drooped. “It’s not a problem, is it?” he asked, seeming genuinely hurt by the thought. Rings glanced at him, and the man gasped as he caught sight of Rings’ eyes for the first time. Rings didn’t like it when people drew attention to his abnormalities like that; he hunched his shoulders and stared at the floor again.

Yes. “No,” he said quietly,” it’s fine.” It wasn’t fine.

He rose from his seat, disheartened to see that he was a good six inches taller than the blue haired man. Rings could never really conceal his otherness. He was too tall and too pale, and he had strange eyes and disconcerting teeth. People stared.

He payed the man before he allowed himself to be led into the same back room where Chad and the woman had emerged from earlier. Rings sat down in a very familiar chair and awaited instructions.

"So, Rings," Chad said pleasantly as he began cleaning his tools. "You got a birth name to go along with that?"

"I do," Rings said," but considering who bestowed it upon me, I rather prefer not to use it."

"Mommy issues?" Chad guessed.

"Grandmother," Rings clarified.

"So, the red eyes—"

"I’m going to stop you right there and say that if you continue that sentence I will take the 14g needle you’re about to shove trough my ear and use it on your jugular."

"Don’t talk about the eyes, then," Chad said, setting down the last of his freshly cleaned tools. "Could you take off your hat?"

"Don’t mention the hair either," Rings said. He pulled off his hat to reveal his white roots. They really were getting quite bad; he wasn’t sure how he had not noticed before then. Before anything else was said, Rings pulled a hairband from the seemingly endless supply he kept in his pockets and pulled his hair back away from his face and ears.

Chad cleaned Rings’ ear thoroughly before taking a marker and marking where the two holes would go. “I feel like, before you perforate me,” Rings said as Chad began putting on a pair of latex gloves,” I should tell you that I have a blood condition, and please don’t scream when you see it.”

"I’ve been doing this for five years," chad said, positioning the needle," and I’ve never seen anything that would make me scream."

"You’d be surprised," Rings said. He took a deep breath in and let it out when instructed to do so, wincing at the sharp pain that shot through his ear.

"You’re not even bleeding," Chad said as he positioned the needle for the second hole. Rings didn’t correct him, because he didn’t want to jostle his head while the man was working. Another breath, another exhale, another sharp pain, the piercing part of this show was now over.

A few things about vampires: A wooden stake through the heart would kill them. What kind of wood didn’t matter. In the same respect as basically every other living organism, stabbing them through the fucking heart made them die. Continuing on that trend, a silver bullet would kill them. Because it was a bullet. What we’re getting at here is that most of the mythical vampire killing devices worked on the basis of the fact that they were killing devices. 

However, allergies to silver were very common among vampires, and to other metals as well. Rings, keeping up with his trend of being fucking weird, was not allergic to silver, he was allergic to nickel. This made his life kind of complicated since everything seemed to have nickel in it, and having random patches of skin turn black and shriveled while out in public what just not fun. But whatever, he lived with it and dealt with it and was really careful when he bought earrings and belts.

One last thing, Chad knew none of this. We now return to the scene we just left, where Chad is currently sliding a post in to Rings’ ear, and Rings is simultaneously remembering that he is allergic to most earrings and that the person shoving a giant post in to his ear doesn’t know this. 

Actually we don’t.

We now take you to the front of the shop where three high school sophomores had just entered. The one who was sweating a lot and freaking out had lost a bet the previous day and his punishment was that he had to have on ear pierced. He was also terrified of needles. His name was Dave. His two friends were assholes and currently explaining to the innocent shop worker what was to go down.

Just as Dave started to take calming breaths and stop staring at all the pointy thing holy fuck, Chad finished inserting the post through the fresh hole in Ring’s head. The scream that resounded through the shop was worthy of a call to the cops.

"Holy fucking shit! What the—Jesus Christus verdammt! Du Dummkopf; warum ich Sie dies tun! Fuck fuck fuck - mein Ohr ist verdammt ficken Holen Sie es aus! Holen Sie es aus! Scheiß drauf!" Rings pulled the stud out of his ear, causing the place where it touched his hand to also blacken and burn. He dropped it immediately and stormed out to the front where three boys were standing with Ron and looking terrified.

The vampire put his hand up, cupping his ear that was both blackened and bleeding profusely. Clear fluid dripped down his wrist, a few drops landing on the floor. He turned briefly to Ron and said,”Ich gehe nach Hause; rufen Sie mich an, wenn Krissy zurückkommt.” Ron stared at him blankly, and Rings realized that he had been spending way too much time alone with his uncle if he was cussing people out in German now.

"I am going home," he said, in English, through clenched teeth." Call me when Krissy comes back in." Chad came to stand in the doorway of the back room, and Rings whipped around to glare at him. It took all of his will power to not bare his fangs and hiss.

He knew, logically that it was his own fault for not telling the man, but his ear was burning and bleeding, and he decided that he was entitled to a little pointless anger at the moment.

He got about halfway down the street from the shop before his day got even better. Because, being a blood sucker from one of the higher levels of hell, he qualified as a demon. And someone was summoning him, and this was just a fucking fantastic day. He was going to rip out their eyes and strangle them with their own ocular nerve, because he was just having that kind of day.

The forceful relocation was his least favorite part; it always gave him a stomach ache. The disorientation was bad as well, because you never knew where people would put their summoning circles. This one, at least, seemed to be on the floor.

Rings always closed his eyes during the process, mostly because the swirling black nothingness of the veil made him kind of woozy. He opened them now to observe his new surroundings.

He was in a bedroom; it was dark, the room lit only by what sun filtered through the window blinds. There were piles of things on the floor around him that seemed to have been sorted only by color. Directly in front of him were two guys about his age. One was tall and pale—though darker than Rings, and the other was small, blond, and apparently using the tall one as a perch. The tall one was yelling.

"Micheal!" he was saying, apparently trying to pry the small one off of his back. "I refuse to be used as a steed!" 

"But I would so enjoy riding you," Micheal said, clinging to his perch.

Rings crossed his arms and tapped his foot in annoyance. What kind of incompetent, garage voodoo dipshits were these people. First they summon a demon—a bumbling, low ranking demon, but a demon regardless—then they jus ignore him when he gets there. Seriously who were these guys.

Micheal froze, finally noticing the newly appeared vampire. “Ooh, Kyle!” he yelped, waggling his arm in the direction of the circle. Kyle, who had given up and was resigned to carrying his friend around on his back for the rest of the day, seems relieved when he saw the vampire. He moved closer to the circle, intending to speak. Micheal interrupted him.

"Hey, I know this guy," he said," Anthony, right? Anthony Marceos."


	5. Bubble, bubble

     Micheal and Kyle looked at each other in confusion when the demon in front of them started speaking rapidly in what sounded like fluent German. Micheal slid comically slow down from Kyle's back; his dress bunching up, before his bare feet hit the floor. Kyle had to resist the urge to laugh.

     "Kyle," Micheal said quietly as the demon in front of them paced in a circle, hissing out words that were probably not very nice. He kept one hand cupped over his right ear protectively. "Kyle, what's he saying?"

     "Why are you asking me?" Kyle shot back.

     "You speak other languages," Micheal said.

     "I speak harpy and conversational fairy!"

     "Oh...well yell at him in fairy maybe he knows it."

     "Didn't you say you know this guy?" Kyle asked. "Shouldn't you know if he speaks English or not?"

     "He's in my English class," Micheal said.

     The look Kyle gave him at that moment could have melted through steel. "And you fucking think he doesn't speak English," he said. "He probably thinks we're the dumbest assholes on the planet."

     "At this point, yeah, I do," the demon in the circle said, startling both boys. "I'm having a really shit day, okay? First my ear and now this, just, do you two have any idea what you're doing, at all?"

     "Kyle," Micheal said in quiet awe," he's British."

     "Micheal no," Kyle said. "Please no."

     "But Kyle--"

     "No." Kyle grabbed Micheal by the arm and dragged him toward the door. "Go play with May, the adults have work to do," he said, shoving Micheal into the hallway. He quickly kissed his forehead before shutting the door.

     "Sorry about him," Kyle said, turning to face the demon. "He's, well, he's an idiot, but I love him so I put up with his bullshit." He ran a hand through his hair and sighed. The other raised one pierced eyebrow at him, and Kyle suddenly felt like a greenhorn instead of the experienced brewer that he was.

     "I swear to god I know what I'm doing," he said. "It's just been really crazy around here."

     The demon did not look impressed. He raised an eyebrow and looked around the room; it hit Kyle then that he hadn't bothered picking up after his windingwar episode.

     "I can see that," he said. He hissed as the blackening of his skin started to creep down his face and wrist. "Listen," he said," since you're such a professional, would you happen to have some bubble skin on hand?"

     "To stop the spread?"

     "Yeah. I have my own at home, but I'm kind of tied up at the moment."

     "I've got some somewhere," Kyle said, wading through the mess on his floor and barely staying upright as he weaved between boxes and piles of things. All of his shelves were empty now, due to his compulsion to reorganize things while high. "Let me think," he muttered as he nearly tripped. "That's...pink? Yes okay. Uh..."

     He whirled around on one foot and crouched down out of sight. He reappeared a moment later triumphantly holding up a butter bowl with a large pink spot painted on it and "BS - 8/15/14" written across the lid in nearly illegible handwriting. He picked his way back over to the circle and handed the tub to the demon who raised an eyebrow at the packaging.

     "What?" Kyle bristled, looking at his shoes.  " I'm not in this for the aesthetics."

     The demon shrugged and pulled the lid off with his slightly mangled hand. He held it up and sniffed it before cautiously dipping a finger in the Pepto-Bismol colored contents. Kyle was unprepared for the extremely sexual moan that came out of the boy.

     "Ah--uh, sorry," he said, face heating up but not changing color. He watched as the pudding-like substance was absorbed by his finger. The area it touched quickly went from shriveled and black to bright pink and pudgy like a newborn's. His eyes got wide.

     "Holy shit dude, what do you put in this?" he asked, quickly applying more to his hand.

     "I actually can't tell you that," Kyle said, scratching the back of his neck. "Not that I don't trust you, but you're a demon I just met so forgive me if I don't tell you all my secrets."

     "Fair enough. I'm Rings, by the way," Rings said. He continued to rub the salve on the affected areas.

     "Kyle Stevens," Kyle said as Rings pulled down the collar of his shirt to treat the patch creeping down his chest.

     "Well, Kyle, I'm assuming you called me here for a reason," Rings said, sighing in relief as he rubbed the last of it out of his skin.

     "Yeah," Kyle said swinging his arms. He had sort of forgotten that he was working in all the madness. He picked his way through the room. "Uh, hm ,okay." He stood still and thought. "Okay, High Me," he said, closing his eyes," are syringes white, grey, or clear? What's the logic here?"

     God, he really needed a better system for reorganizing when he was completely pissed. Maybe he should lock everything up beforehand so he wouldn't have the dexterity to get it out later.

     "Oh!" he exclaimed, quickly exiting the room. That was right, he moved them to the kitchen because May was worried he'd accidentally poke his own eye out. "Thanks, May!" Kyle called as he rushed past her door.

     "You're welcome!" she called out without care for what he was referring to. She shrugged and went pack to painting Micheal's nails electric pink.

     He quickly grabbed a syringe from the box of them that was temporarily perched on the kitchen counter until he could did it a better home. (He lived in a shady neighborhood, and if you knew the right people they were pretty easy to come by. He made sure to thoroughly clean them before use, though.)

     Kyle returned to his room, idly twiddling the syringe between his fingers and whistling. He stopped dead in his tracks at the sight that greeted him. "God damn it."

     Rings, all six feet, three inches of him was rolling and writhing around on Kyle's floor while  _purring_. He was surrounded by various containers he had knocked off, and there was one in particular that had shattered, it's contents spilled out on the floor.

     The flower of catacombs was a small, dark purple flower with a very long, thin stem. It grew in clusters around the grave of anyone who had ever killed a demon, and it was like catnip to vampires.

     When Rings opened his eyes and spotted Kyle he immediately went still. Had he been a cat his ears would perk up and tail bristle. "Uh," he said. The room was silent save for the partially stifled purr rumbling in the demon's chest.

     In the few seconds it took Kyle to figure out what to do, Rings had already lost focus and was rubbing his face in the flowers again, inhaling deeply. "Hey now," Kyle said. He set the syringe aside and went over, hauling Rings to his feet by his armpits. "Stop that, those are expensive."

     He propped the vampire up against the wall by the door and set about cleaning up his mess. He had to run to the kitchen to grab a big ziplock bag, and by the time he got back Rings had slumped down to the floor and was blinking slowly, like his mind was trying to get back on track but couldn't quite make it. He was still purring, and Kyle thought he finally understood why there were people who liked cats.

     Cursing constantly under his breath, Kyle set about bagging up all the flower of catacombs that hadn't been crushed beyond use by the vampire currently trying to catch an invisible butterfly near his door. When he had rescued all he could, he set the bag aside and pulled Rings to his feet again. "C'mon. Let's get you some fresh air." He dragged the slightly taller male out in to the hallway.

     Kyle lugged him to the couch in the living room. "Stay," he said, patting Rings on the chest. He went back and grabbed the syringe from his room before making a pit stop at the bathroom to grab his first-aid kit.

     "Hey, buddy," Kyle said when he reentered the living room, voice calm like he was talking to a stray tom cat. He knew that flower of catacombs wore off pretty quickly after exposure was stopped, and it was disorienting to suddenly come to somewhere different than you remembered.

     "You okay?" Kyle asked the drowsy looking vampire. He set to work getting out everything he needed to get the required blood sample. "Here, drink this," he handed Rings a fruity smelling yellow concoction that he had stirred up on the fly while he was oh of the room.

     The still sluggish boy raised an eyebrow at this, suspicious. "It's a dye I've come up with for stuff like this," Kyle explained. "Clear blood makes it hard to see veins and draw blood--I need your blood, if I didn't tell you. Charisma potion, he wants a promotion; I dunno. I don't ask the clients questions beyond if they have cash. Anyway, you'll look kinda zombie yellow for about an hour and then your pee will be fluorescent for a few days, but it won't hurt you."

     Rings had already started drinking before Kyle had finished speaking. His head was fuzzy and warm, buzzing. The sooner he could go home and crash the better.

     "So what am I getting for this?" Rings asked, after he had downed the foul tasting but aromatic concoction. Demons did not come when summoned out of the goodness of their hearts; higher class demons could demand souls, but Rings was usually okay with cash. Traditionally, the payment was negotiated  _before_  whatever they were to do began, but it had been kind of a crazy day.

     "Uh, what do you want?"

     Rings handed him the empty cup and said, "If we're being perfectly honest here, I'd take a batch of that bubble skin." Kyle raised an eyebrow at him. "What? I'm, uh, I'm kinda clumsy, and that's seriously the best I've ever tried, look at my hand!" He stuck his previously balckened hand in Kyle's face, and the older boy's eyes struggled to focus on it.

     "It's smooth as fuck, and there's no scarring line! It actually looks  _better_  than before it was hurt!"

     Kyle looked at him like he had lost his mind. "What kind of knock off cheap shit have you  _been_  using? That's what cauldron froth is  _supposed_  to do."

     "Cauldron what now?"

     "Bubble skin," Kyle clarified. Due to his circumstances, Kyle tended to call everything by its most common street name.

     "Oh. Yeah, I know how it's supposed to work," Rings said, and a faint yellow tint was starting to appear on his face. "But I'm not really raking in the cash here."

     "Got enough money to put all that metal in your head," Kyle reasoned.

     "Shop owner's a friend," Rings replied.

     Kyle hummed in acknowledgement as he set to work getting what he needed. He located a suitable vein, a ghoulish green-yellow through the vampire's skin, and tied off the above it. He donned gloves and cleaned the area with rubbing alcohol and grabbed the needle. Rings tensed.

     Kyle raised an eyebrow. "Relax, or this'll hurt more," he warned.

     "Sorry, I just...have a thing about, uh, needles," he said, staring at the floor bashfully.

     "Just inhale slowly; I'm gonna prick you on the exhale, okay?"

     "Okay."

     Rings took a deep breath, and Kyle plunged the needle through his skin when he exhaled. He extracted the once clear blood, glad to find that the vampire didn't have rolling veins. When the syringe was full he set it aside and pulled off his gloves.

     "Well, that's done," Kyle said pleasantly just as the door to May's room opened.

     "Hey broskidoodle," May called as she walked out of her purple room, Micheal following quickly behind. Kyle turned toward her in acknowledgement. "You planning on making anything for lunch or..."

     Kyle tossed his rubber gloves in the trash as he thought about it. "I need to go shopping," he said. "And pay him," he nodded to the man on the couch.

     "That'd be nice, yeah," Rings said.

     "Hey, hot guy on my couch," May said, attention shifting to where Rings was reclining.

     Rings waved one hand at her. "My girlfriend is straight," he offered as a greeting," adventurous, to be sure, but straight. Better luck next time."

     May snapped her fingers in defeat. "Darn."

     "May, you can't have sex until such time as you don't live here anymore or I am dead and therefore can't hear it," Kyle said firmly. "I have enough nightmares as it is."

     "You have no room to talk," Michael said with narrowed eyes. Kyle hummed at him in question. "I did live in the same house as Evelyn for a while; I know it's hard to believe."

     Kyle's face lit up red. "Yeah," he said. "Sorry about that."

     "But about that lunch, though."

     "May, of you can find anything edible in this house, feel free to eat it. Otherwise, you're gonna have to wait until I get paid tomorrow."

     "Fineeeeee," the blond girl said dramatically. She sagged her shoulders and plodded off to the kitchen.

     "Hey, Kyle," Micheal said. Kyle raised an eyebrow at him. "I'm kinda hungry too."

     "Oh fuck off," Kyle said, rolling his eyes. "You can go at  _least_  a week without, and I smelled at least three separate men on you when you came in; you're fine." Micheal stuck his tongue out at his boyfriend and followed May in to the kitchen.

     "Not in to blokes?" Rings asked. He flinched as soon as the words left his mouth. It was a stupid question. He really should just shut up and stop trying to make conversation.

     "Not in to minors," Kyle answered, oblivious to Rings' inner scolding.

     "Ah. I didn't realize. Hard to tell with demons you know? Didn't realize he was an inky, either. He doesn't really look like one." Seriously, why was he still talking? These were all total strangers. He should just shut up.

     "He's a halfbreed." Rings wondered if that terminology wasn't somehow offensive. "Makes him a little more charismatic, if you ask me. I'll go get that froth for you."

     He left Rings lying on the couch and went down the hallway to his room. The little blond one, Micheal, wandered in a moment later. He was absentmindedly fiddling with the hem of the dress he had on and mumbling to himself.

     Rings, being the master of social interactions that he was, said nothing, and Micheal yelped when he turned and saw him. The vampire waved one hand at him. He narrowed his eyes in confusion but waved back.

     Kyle returned a few seconds later, breaking the awkward silence. He ruffled Micheal's hair as he walked by before handing Rings an opaque plastic jar, that was at least not a butter dish, of what he assumed was bubble skin. There was a lilac sticky note stuck to the lid with a phone number scrawled across it in jagged letters. Rings raised his eyebrows at it.

     "In case you want more," Kyle said with a shrug.

     "Thanks." The vampire stood from the couch. He reached up instinctively to fiddle with his hat, confused when it wasn't there. "Damn it."

     "What's wrong?" Kyle asked. May entered the room, eating what looked like mustard and a fried egg between a piece of bread that was folded in half.

     "I left my hat in the bloody shop, didn't I?" he said. It was really rather inconvenient; he didn't like walking outside without something to cover his face, and now his roots were exposed.

     All three inhabitants of the house were watching him now. May continued to take slow deliberate bites of her sandwich. Micheal openly stared at him.

     "So, uh..." Another reason Rings hated being summoned: the awkward force interaction. "Could you tell me where I am? I need to get home."


End file.
